


a secret dance for two

by roses_and_riots



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy is 26, Clarke is 17 almost 18, Clothed Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Dancer!Bellamy, F/M, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, dancer!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roses_and_riots/pseuds/roses_and_riots
Summary: Clarke is in her last year at Ark Dance Academy when Bellamy Blake returns to school after performing on tour as a professional. He's the older brother of her best friend while some things have changed, her crush on him hasn't. But now she's older than before and he seems more aware of her compared to when they were just kids at the academy.So she decides that it's time for her to lose her virginity to him.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 100





	a secret dance for two

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing an E rated fic and I’ve had this idea in my head for over a year, so it finally felt like time to get over my insecurities about writing very descriptive sex. Thus, this fic was written. I did some cursory research on dance academies but this is very much molded to fit my needs over reality. 
> 
> **The usual spiel:** this fic is written for the purposes of reading as porn and is not representative of the author’s view on underage or power imbalanced sexual relations. If that’s something that you struggle to separate in fiction, that’s okay and you don’t have to read it! Otherwise, let’s get the party started.

At the Ark Dance Academy, no one ever interrupted the classes once they started –– especially if it was Madame Nia’s. Even an emergency would cause her to skeptically lift an eyebrow and disdainfully look at the offending student. The students were here, living at the academy, to focus on dance and dance only. Dance was life and there was no time for distractions on her watch.

So a buzz rushed through the afternoon ballet intermediate technical class when Gina, the harried front-desk secretary, blew into the studio and Madame Nia’s face actually broke out into a  _ smile _ at the information it was that she’d passed along.

Whatever it was, it must be big.

Clarke Griffin slowly lowered back to the flats of her feet, looking across the room to her best friend. Octavia Blake was also looking for her and when their eyes met, she shrugged. 

It was probably impossible to count the amount of times Clarke had seen Nia smile on one hand. And she’d been at the Academy since she was six years old. 

The woman’s frosty attitude mirrored her roots in the tundra-environment of her home country of Azgeda, but all of that had melted away as she cast a prideful smirk around the studio. All of the dancers looked back at her in curiosity. Clarke wouldn’t have put it past her to be about to dole out a punishment to all of them.

But that wasn’t the case. 

Not even close.

“Students,” she purred, “I am so pleased to announce that we have a former student of the Ark joining us today. He’s freshly back from touring with the Bardo Ballet Theater Troupe and has been starring in the classical production of  _ The Red Sun _ . Class, Bellamy Blake.” 

She swung her arm back towards the studio’s door and her theatrics timed perfectly as it swung open and in walked the very man. 

Clarke’s jaw dropped, swinging to look at Octavia who looked equally stunned. 

Okay, so she hadn’t been expecting her older brother either.

Clarke’s eyes slid back to Bellamy.

Calling him a man felt silly. She’d seen him go through puberty, heard the tail-end of his voice dropping. But the person who had walked in was anything but the gangly teenager who’d been at his wits end with his younger sister and her equally mischievous best friend. 

No –– he really was a man now.

It must have been a while since his last performance in  _ The Red Sun _ since he’d apparently chosen to grow out a beard. Younger Clarke would have teased him for it, seventeen-nearly-eighteen year old Clarke had a whole different opinion on facial hair now. While he’d always been athletic since she’d known him, a force of physicality when he’d graduated the Academy, it was clear he had only grown stronger since then. Sculpted muscles, strong enough to repeatedly lift the prima ballerina she’d seen in all of the posters for the ballet. The strength of a teenage boy had turned into a man and Clarke blinked rapidly as she remembered the video chat the Griffins and Blakes had had with him last year for his 25th birthday. She hadn’t processed at the time his physical changes through the small screen from just his neck up and now she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering all over him.

She would have felt weirder about it if it hadn’t been for the voice behind her whispering,  _ “god I’d climb him like a tree. _ ”

At least Clarke kept her thoughts to herself; Josie openly simpered over any man who didn’t have gray hair yet. And even that was a lenient rule for her.

Bellamy walked over to Nia, giving her a slight bow and kissing her on her knuckles.

Clarke could almost hear Octavia gagging from where she sat.

A rush of emotions took over as Nia insisted he give the class an update on how he was doing (with an emphasis on how much her class had helped him professionally) as a working danseur. 

Bellamy had been many things over the years to Clarke. Most of the time, he had been Octavia’s annoying older brother. Sometimes he’d been a willing teacher, helping the two of them work through the positions that they were stumped on. He had pushed the two of them to be the best they could and in the meantime, soared to new heights on his own. Most of the students at the Ark Dance Academy were on scholarship but Bellamy took it personally to prove himself as a deserving recipient of his.

But despite––or because––of his intensity, there had been another element of Bellamy to Clarke.

He’d been her first crush. 

Her first sexual reawakening when she’d caught him kissing one of the older girls after class and realized she wanted someone’s hands on her where he’d put his on Bree. 

And when his eyes swept across the room, mid sentence about the intensity of performing professionally, his gaze locked onto her and Clarke sucked in her breath. 

She knew was being irrational, but a part of her was convinced he knew her secret the second he looked at her. 

\------------

It would have been ridiculous to imagine any type of scenario where Clarke didn’t run into Bellamy after that day. He was practically an older sibling to her, the  _ actual _ older brother of Octavia. Of course they’d hang out.

But now she saw him in a new light and everything felt different.

She and Octavia still had classes to attend to, both their brief academic and extensive dance ones. And there were no boys ( _ men _ she corrected herself, picturing Bellamy’s frame and changes) allowed in the girls’ dormitories. 

But Bellamy was going to be back at the academy for the rest of the semester, helping teach while he figured out his next move for touring.  _ The Red Sun _ was finished for the time being and apparently he’d suffered a slight injury near the end of the season, so this gave him time to recuperate fully. He confessed to the two of them one movie night, taking advantage of the teaching quarters that he’d received, that he was further along than he’d thought. Now it was just him trying to figure out if touring was what he still wanted to do or if he wanted to come back and teach. 

Clarke knew which one she selfishly wanted him to do. 

A large part of it was only because now that they were older, they were able to have what felt like a real friendship. Not just a pestering older brother role. And she could see how much he liked teaching and how his passion could help motivate more up and coming dancers. 

And then of course a part of it was that meant he’d be here while she was. She’d decided only a couple days after he arrived back that she wouldn’t even bother trying to get over her crush on him. It had come hurtling back at her the second he’d come over to talk with her and Octavia after class and she knew it was here to stay.

And if he stayed, that meant he would be physically near. Which definitely made it easier for her to visualize him on those nights alone, back hiding in the showers, furiously attempting to masturbate to the image of him taking her.

Because surely the longer he stayed, the better chance she had at having sex with him.

She wasn’t trying to delude herself.

She knew Bellamy was older, more experienced than her. And when she was younger, she wouldn’t have dreamed of initiating anything with him for those very reasons (plus you know, Octavia’s brother). But now she was nearly eighteen and that flare of attraction was still very much alive in her. And even though she had a small fear of rejection, she was also fairly certain he wanted it too.

At one point she accidentally brushed her leg against his while they ate lunch.  _ No really, it was an accident. _ But she couldn’t ignore the flash of heat that crossed through his eyes when they made eye contact, even if it quickly disappeared and he resumed eating as if nothing had happened. 

He’d wanted to read something into it, she knew.

And slowly from that one accidental touch, it was like something had broken and they were continually drawn back to each other physically. 

When he volunteered in classes, somehow they were always partnered together. If anyone suspected anything, they didn’t say. Even Josie didn’t make any snide comments which meant that somehow Clarke was successfully masking her real feelings every time Bellamy’s hands touched her. The swoop in her stomach as he’d step up behind her. His large hands encasing her waist as he’d lift her up. 

She took to going as many classes as she could in her Ark-themed sweatpants, when it was allowed. 

Tights were hardly the most conducive clothing to wear when you felt like you were constantly turned on.

But it didn't seem to matter what she wore because Bellamy’s body radiated heat like a furnace. It fired her up, switching on every nerve ending in her body. Whether she had a sweater thrown over her leotard or not, his palms burned through it as if she was wearing nothing at all.

She wondered how Bellamy was handling it.

She would have thought that she was losing her mind, imagining things that weren’t there, but she could feel Bellamy’s own mask falter around her. 

Lingering touches, a reluctance to let her go.

The way when other dancers would come to her at meals, flirations falling on their lips, he’d instinctively inch closer to her. He had always been protective of the two of them but this felt different. At times it veered on possessive. 

And Clarke very much liked that. Thrived on it.

But for all of the little moments––from tucking her under his arm when they did movie nights to the way he’d tuck her hair behind her ear before class––there was one moment when Clarke knew she could go ahead and make her move.

She’d fallen in class. There’d been a brief moment of panic, the fear of injury paralzying to everyone, but it looked like she’d be okay. But her ribs were killing her from hitting the barre strangely so she’d slipped into the locker rooms to check if it was already bruising. 

She hadn’t expected Bellamy to come charging in only moments after.

According to Octavia, later at dinner and completely unprompted, he’d come in late to the class and someone had mentioned Clarke’s fall. He’d immediately raced after her to make sure she was okay, which was what had brought them to the scenario of him walking in when her leotard was pulled down to her hips and her chest out as she inspected the potential bruising. 

All of the concern that had been in his face fled the second they made eye contact and then, after her small gasp of surprise, he very much was looking anywhere but her eyes. 

His gaze raked down her body, as if he was really seeing it for the first time.

Flames had licked up through her body at the intensity of his stare; a devil on her shoulder whispering him to lean into it. Show off her body to him.

The moment was broken when he quickly attempted to recover himself, but it was too late for either of them to plead ignorant. Even after he’d left, Clarke could still feel his eyes burning into her.

She’d have to at some point figure out how to explain it to Octavia.  _ “Sorry your brother came home and I still found him hot, hope you don’t mind,” _ seemed too casual of a way to put it. Even if it was true. Probably better to workshop that conversation a little more in her mind. 

But she’d already made her decision either way.

She was going to lose her virginity to Bellamy Blake.

\------------

She stared through the small window of the door.

Bellamy was just stretching now. He must have been practicing by himself earlier. He’d been overall jovial since his return to the academy, focusing on the students and classes. She wondered what he missed about the troupe he’d been with, what it was like to now practice on his own. If he’d made up his mind yet about staying.

The idea that he might choose to leave again was what pushed her to twist open the doorknob. If he ultimately decided teaching wasn’t for him, he’d be back on the road and he’d be with another prima ballerina. 

It was now or never if she wanted to spend a certain type of time with him before he left.

He slowly came out of his current leg stretch as he heard the door open.

“Clarke? What are you doing up still?”

He seemed confused, but not disappointed to see her. That was a good start. She used the energy from that day in the locker room to make her take another step forward.

“It’s not really that late,” she remarked back. “Plus I wasn’t tired.”

He smirked as she stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her. “Well don’t let Nia catch you out of your room, she’ll keep you in the back of the stage for the rest of the year.”

The idea was briefly troubling to Clarke, but she shrugged it off. It felt like Bellamy was running through a list of what should be expected reasons that they weren’t here alone in the studio.

“I’ll just tell her you’re giving me private lessons so that I can improve my chances after graduation. She’ll eat it right up.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed curiously at her words. He was standing now and he crossed his arms over his chest, making her practically blush at the way his biceps squeezed against it. She couldn’t overthink it now though, she couldn’t be distracted.

“Private lessons?”

His voice had dropped and a thrill raced through Clarke’s body.

The way he’d hedged the question was like he knew that she was maybe referring to something else.

“Would those be dance lessons or…?”

This was it; this was her chance.

“I think I had something else in mind,” she let out in a rush, “but another skill that you could teach me in.” Her innuendo, though far from anything as racy as she’d seen online, seemed to put the final piece together for him. 

“Clarke, you can’t be serious,” he said with a laugh. But the laugh was forced, like he was trying to maintain a sense of normalcy and he hadn’t been the one ogling her the other day or struggling to stop touching her.

She quickly shook her head.

“Bellamy, I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

The room seemed to increase in temperature the longer they stared at each other. She didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to her chest, her heavy breathing making the movement of it obvious against her tank top. It was one from two years ago, a blatant decision for the way that it pulled tightly across her chest. She knew she had a larger one than most of the dancers here, might as well put it to use now. Remind him of what he’s seen in the locker room. Anything to bring that stare back. 

“Are you sure? Clarke if you don’t actually want this––” Bellamy’s voice broke off, ragged as he stared at her. 

The restraint he was expressing showed itself in the way she could see the tendons of his arms flexing, his fists clenched by his side. She didn’t know something as anatomically simple as veins could be so attractive.

His jaw clicked as he waited for her answer.

She knew that if she said no, he’d listen. He wanted her and yet she knew that he would stop if she asked him to. 

So she slowly nodded, taking another step closer to him.

“Please, Bellamy. I want you. To show me how it can feel. I want it to be you.”

Once the words were out there, she knew she couldn’t take them back. She wished she hadn’t sounded so pleading, but Bellamy seemed unbothered by her nervousness or need. 

In fact his posture straightened as he evaluated her, his shoulders rolling back. She once again noticed the size of his hands, his arms, his well… everything. 

Acknowledging it made another flash of heat scorch through her, followed by another sensation of arousal dripping out of her. For all the stories of guys not lasting long their first time, she had a suspicion that Bellamy could simply touch her and she’d fall apart.

He cocked his head, watching her carefully. Seeking to see if she was going to suddenly bolt. She did her best to convey confidence back at him. To let him know that he wasn’t dealing with a child. But he continued to wait, practically dangling the potential end of all of this in front of her, before he finally spoke. 

“Lean against the barre,” Bellamy instructed.

Clarke’s breathing grew more shallow as she moved to follow his command. He was using his teacher's voice. The voice that had at one point been obnoxious when he was fifteen and trying to lecture her and Octavia. But now he was older and it was developed from practice and  _ god did it turn her on _ . 

The floor length mirror that lined the wall had been a place of contention and celebration for her over the years. Classes upon classes of scrutinizing her body, the positions she could get into, carefully following Madame Nia’s example as she pushed her skills further and further. But now it took on an entirely new role as she stepped in front of it. It highlighted her arousal, every heaving breath that she took as the tension mounted between them. Her pupils reflected back at her, blown out in her desire. Bellamy was just behind her. Somehow the added reflection of him made her feel surrounded by him, feeling his heated presence in person but seeing his reaction in the mirror. He was everywhere and he hadn’t even touched her.

She gingerly placed her hands on the barre, wrapping her fingers around it. Her blush extended deep into her chest as a different image flashed in her mind at the sensation of her gripping the cool-to-touch cylindrical wood. 

She wondered if he’d want her to do that to him.

She  _ hoped _ he wanted her to do that to him.

Though she felt like she had followed his commands, a frown still flickered on Bellamy’s expression as he gazed steadily at her. A panic settled into her core, beginning to churn against her desire and she almost let go of the barre to ask him what he wanted her to do. She always got things right.

But she didn’t have to let go or say anything because he took a step up and tapped her leg with his hand before halfway circling her to the other side. 

Like communicating with language she didn’t know she knew, Clarke immediately spread her legs out. The move, though small, adjusted her stance enough that she felt herself slightly lean over, her body now further from the barre. 

Oh. That was what he wanted.

He wanted her bent over the barre with her ass out, just shy enough away from obscene but clear as to what was happening. She felt his praise, rolling off of his body in waves, even before she caught his eye.. 

The husky  _ “good girl” _ he murmured to her sent liquid fire racing throughout her body.

She’d always thrived best on praise and reward in class, it was turning out that this might be no different. It looked like she had more to learn about herself than she’d realized going into this. There was more this than just the physical movements of sex and realizing Bellamy could introduce them to her thrilled her.

Rather than twisting her head to keep eye contact with him, Clarke shifted her eyes to meet his in the mirror. 

Blood was rushing throughout her core and she was flushed, the heat of the room increasing the longer this carried on. He hadn’t even touched her yet and he was driving her crazy. Somehow his eyes alone were enough to get her panting, as if he was undressing her. Studying her. The briefest of flickers of her eyes showed her that he liked what he saw, the loose sweats he was wearing no match for the bulge that had steadily been growing. She must have audibly reacted without realizing because he chuckled, drawing her face back up to his. 

He looked like he wanted to eat her alive. 

“How far have you gone?”

It wasn’t the question she was expecting and embarrassment joined the heat staining her cheeks.

Would he not want her if she told him the truth, that she wasn’t very experienced?

But she couldn’t lie to Bellamy. Not after all of these years of knowing him. Not with the way he was looking at her now, the hunger clear as day as he stared her down. He was the one who had gotten them to this point, she couldn’t imagine that he wouldn't follow through. And if they were going to really do this, they had to be honest with each other. If she lied to him she knew he’d stop immediately. 

“Second base with someone else and I’ve fingered myself before,” she mumbled softly. The word felt foreign coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever said it out loud. Usually she and Octavia just mimed it as a joke and started cracking up before they could say anything.

But she couldn’t even really think of Octavia right now. Not while her brother was standing behind her and her wildest dreams were about to come true.

His eyes continued to burn into her. He didn’t react and she wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He stepped up directly behind her then. She tried to not let her excitement be too obvious, but she was sure he could tell.

“Whatever happens, don’t take your hands off of the barre,” he commanded. Her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head at the roughness of his voice.

His crotch was nearly touching her and she could see all too clearly in her mind what it would look like if someone walked in. Equally, she knew how easy it would be for him to just roll his sweats down and take her. But it seemed he had a different idea in mind as one of his hands snaked around her waist. She hadn’t worn her full practice outfit today, instead opting for a tank top and tights over her skirt. She was thankful for the one less step required for him to gain access to her. 

He then carefully slipped his hand down and cupped her core.

She gasped and almost jerked forward at the shock of really feeling him, his fingers resting against her slit while his palm was pressed tightly against her mound. Only a second was needed for her to school herself, returning to the same position she’d been in before he’d touched her. 

Once he was confident that she was going to stay still for him, Bellamy began to move his fingers.

Clarke had never paid close attention to the size of her fingers before. In dance, as long as she gestured and pointed them right, almost everything else regarding her body was more important. 

But the feel of Bellamy’s finger, slowly dipping in between her slit, made her realize how small her own were –– at least in contrast to his.

Thick and solid, his middle finger moved slowly but purposefully against her. It wasn’t even like he was trying to necessarily turn her on. Instead, he was exploring her. Feeling how soaking wet she was for him. Testing out of her responses, wholly unconcerned with the speed of it all. 

Back and forth, back and forth. 

This wasn’t a quick moment to get each other off; he wasn’t going to race through this and be done with her. No, he clearly wanted to savor every second. He was indulging himself on her body.

She swallowed back a whimper as he teased her, his finger crooking upwards, slipping just slightly deeper in, before returning to his steady exploration.

In the mirror, she watched as his eyes burned brighter the more he felt how wet she was. His frame engulfed her, his broadness framing her entire body as she looked up at him. Their height difference had never felt dramatic, but now that he was pressing up against her she could see how much he’d truly grown since they’d last been this close to each other. Years of dancing and training to lift dancers above his head had rounded out his shoulders, leading down into his biceps –– one of which was held tight to her side as it held her to him. Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes met hers, his expression of desire only growing as he locked his gaze on her. 

In some sort of intrinsic way, she knew that he liked that she had to look up to see him. That her chin had to tilt up just so to seek him out.

“And this is all for me?” He turned his head to growl into her ear, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. She gripped the barre tighter, helplessly turned on even more by the timbre of his voice, managing only a small nod in return. When she only nodded, he nipped at her earlobe.

He then tutted softly, inducing a ripple of goosebumps down her neck. 

“I always liked how talkative you always were. Use your words, Clarke.” 

A new command, something that she could follow through with.

“Yes,” she breathed out. “That’s all because of you. Always because of you.”

The hum of approval was enough to make her preen but she seemed to have surprised him with her honesty. But it was true. Even when Finn, the jazz dancer who’d lasted only a year at the academy, had attempted his best at fondling her breasts, she hadn’t been able to fight back the image of Bellamy doing it instead. When those late nights came and her frustration was too much to ignore, it was the dream of Bellamy’s fingers sliding past her own that left her gasping against her fist in the shower stall on her floor at midnight.

This information was a thrill for him though and any space that was left behind them was gone as he yanked her flush against him. The move, so aggressive and possessive it ripped a moan from her throat –– and all he had done was envelop her body with his. He wasn’t afraid to handle her, something it felt like others had been in the past. She was a dancer, she was strong. And Bellamy respected that. 

He answered her with a groan of his own. It was raw in sound and she couldn’t help but grind back on him. 

He was huge. 

The sweats did nothing to hold his size back and she was trapped between his large hand and even larger hard on. It was enough to make her even wetter at the sensation of it all. 

As she ground back, trying to find some sort of relief, Bellamy changed his tactics and began to move his finger more purposely. One finger became two, beginning to rub more purposefully against her.

Clarke’s palms grew sweaty against the barre.

The moan that broke out of her felt foreign. 

Even when she’d brought herself to orgasm on her own, it hadn’t felt like this. And she hadn’t even finished yet.

A stroke forward, a stroke back.

Burning, rock hard heat against her from behind.

His fingers were unforgiving. Up and through her slit, lingering on her clit at each pass through. Rough felt like too intense of a word but he was far from delicate. He was all-knowing. The pace he set was unrelenting, even when she felt herself coiling up onto her toes and further folding in on herself as she began to feel herself peak. 

As if sensing she was that close, he finally slid one finger in. Despite the size of his, it went in easily from how wet she was. He pushed into her, his pace consistently increasing in speed while his thumb now remained on her clit. Rubbing, tantalizing her. 

He added a second finger and it was almost too much. He was stretching her, preparing her. He didn’t slow down though.

She couldn’t tell if she was going to turn into herself or explode as the tension built up.

It was a belated realization for her: the sounds that were reverberating through the room came from  _ her _ . High-breathy whines followed by unchecked moans. 

She might have even begged him for more but she was too far gone to understand any words that might have slipped from her mouth. All she knew was that his body was moving in sync with hers, following her rhythm and knowing what she needed exactly when she did. He was predicting each roll and buck of her hips, his fingers moving with her as his other arm trapped her to his chest.

Just when she began to think it was too much, when she’d have to tell him to stop, she felt herself shatter into orgasm.

Her head fell back onto his shoulder, panting into his neck as her brief shriek of pleasure fell into gasping breaths. If it wasn’t for his arms, his muscular and trusting arms, she would have collapsed to the floor as her hands finally slipped away from the barre.

“You’re perfect, Princess,” he breathed against her. There was so much pride in his voice that she let out a hum of pleasure. 

He laughed lightly. “You did always like getting praise, didn’t you?”

If she’d had the ability to blush anymore, she would have at that all too honest appraisal of her. But the post-orgasmic pink that tinged her face seemed to have that covered. 

As she gained her strength back, a glance in the mirror made her almost grind back down onto Bellamy’s fingers. He was still turned in towards her, gently kissing up the side of her neck. His arms had her fully enveloped by him, one strapped across her chest to keep her up while the other one was still extended down with his hand in her tights and pushing her tights and underwear aside. Seeing the size of his arm against her, his hand trapped by her tights, hot and heavy, was exhilarating and she felt herself begin to squirm again as a fresh wave of desire hit her. 

He finally spun her around to face him. After spending so much time watching him through the mirror and only sensing him from touch, it was almost overwhelming to be so close to his face and the heat of his gaze again.

“Can you say it, Clarke? Can you tell me what it is you want?”

His fingers were firm against her jaw but they didn’t hurt. Firm, just like he always had been. He’d been the one to push her to figure out that she really did want to dance. He’d been the once to push her to stand up for herself and what she wanted and to establish her place here at the company.

And right now, she wanted him.

She needed him.

“I need your cock, Bellamy,” she rasped out.

In that brief moment, she almost wondered if he needed her to help him stand up as much as she needed him. 

She’d never used that word before. Dirty talk had never done it for her; Finn’s pathetic whimpers simply regurgitated from cheap porn he’d watched. She’d wanted him to be silent and just get on with the kissing.

But Bellamy had asked her to use her words and so she was being honest with him. She wasn’t interested in him making love to her (at least not at this very moment). The rawness of this all, the friction of her tights against her skin, had all been reminders to her about how much they both needed this. Wasting time of frivolities wasn’t in the cards. Not when he was rock hard against her right now and all she knew was she needed him inside her, at whatever pace he could commit to. She’d picked him for all of him and she’d use vulgarities she’d never imagined before to truly convey that to him.

He answered with an almost punishing kiss, to which she moaned desperately into. She went onto her toes as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms desperately around his shoulders to keep herself up while her hands tangled themselves into his curls. 

“Fuck Clarke,” he growled, finally tearing himself away from her lips to bite his way down her neck again, reaching her shoulders and then down. He pulled aside the thin strap of her tank top, putting his mouth and teeth to work at what she knew would bloom into a bruise against her collarbone.

“You’ve grown up so much,” he breathed against her chest. His hands had wandered and she hadn’t even realized it, slipping both straps off of her shoulders and revealing her chest to him and the room. Despite the heat that was coming off of her in waves, she could feel her nipples tightening at the sudden exposure. Her eyes flicked over and saw herself in the mirror again.

They looked like art. Something you’d see in the dark corners of a museum in a piece that celebrated the human body and sexuality.

Bellamy’s muscles rippled as he moved his hands around her body and left behind flushed, pink marks. She looked so alive. Her body almost felt heavy with arousal, so perfectly engulfed by his. Exactly how she wanted it to be.

“I want more,” she said, unable to even be embarrassed by how whiny she sounded. “You promised.”

He got a good chuckle out of that, tracing her lips with his fingers before ducking down and giving her another kiss.

“There’s that pouty princess I remember so well,” he teased. His eyes swept back to his duffle bag and then back to her. 

“But not here,” he said with a shake of his head. “For one, I don’t have a condom and we’re doing this safely. And two, you’ve done enough standing for tonight and for what I’ve got in mind, I think you’ll feel better if you’re somewhere more comfortable with it.”

A million images raced through her mind and she couldn’t tell which ones she wanted to happen more.

She barely had time to think about all of the possibilities though as they made their way to his place. Thank god he was able to live alone. Some of the teachers here had roommates but his arrival had been unexpected so he had one all to himself.

It would be perfect for this.

They’d attempted to make themselves look presentable on the off-chance that they ran into someone in the hallways. 

Thankfully the lights were dim on their way. It was impossible to fully disguise Bellamy’s hard on and the fact that Clarke was wearing his sweatshirt to hide the fact that right before they’d left, he’d stolen the pale pink skirt she’d been wearing. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he hadn’t had a condom with him, she was pretty sure when he saw her bend over in just tights that he would have happily just taken her on the floor in the studio.

_ There was always next time of course. _

But for now, he had other plans and soon enough she found herself being picked up and dropped onto his bed.

As different as it felt from the studio, the heat was still there as Bellamy dropped down next to her and dragged her next to him. Wandering kisses and hands slowly worked to reveal both of their bodies to each other in completion this time. 

She could have stared at him for hours, admiring every inch of his well-honed body, but she had more pressing needs.

Specifically one that was pressing up against her, heavy and begging to be inside her. 

She moved to adjust herself to underneath him, but Bellamy shook his head at the movement. She pouted, fearing again that he’d reject her now when she was so desperately turned on, but his hands stilled her and her nerves.

“Start on top.”

It might have been a suggestion, but his voice made it like a command and Clarke determined she’d found the one time in her life she didn’t mind being ordered around. 

She shifted out of the way as Bellamy adjusted himself onto his back, pausing to roll the condom from his bedside table onto him. She’d heard that sometimes guys whined about having to wear one and not only was she thankful Bellamy insisted, but she also couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight. A physical reminder of the anticipation coursing through her that he was preparing to fuck her for real. 

Without warning, once he was done he reached over and yanked her to be on top of him, her legs instinctively spreading to straddle him as he did.

When she’d first heard about the idea of a partner being on top, it had made her blush and she’d determined that it didn’t seem like something she’d be interested in. It had somehow seemed too revealing. 

But she was quickly changing her mind. 

While she’d been intoxicated by the feeling of being entirely enveloped by Bellamy in the studio, she equally was enjoying this feeling. In charge but entirely at his leisure to touch as he pleased. Without him having to do the bulk of the physical activity, it left him with the freedom to let his hands roam possessively around her body. Which he was currently doing. A pinch and a twist at her nipple, followed by a soothing stroke to relieve it. A tight grip on her waist with one hand while other wandered back down until––

“Oh!” She couldn’t help but gasp. Even with the walk to his room, her clit was still tender from earlier and it sparked with excitement at the feel of him.

Though she didn’t explicitly say anything, he made his movements more gentle.

“Just helping you make sure you’re as wet as possible,” he explained. She could have told him that the open hunger on his face as he took in her naked body was enough to get her going, but she certainly wasn’t going to say no to his hands. But eventually he determined that it was enough and he nodded at her, pulling his hand back and settling it on the opposite hip of the other. The wetness on his fingers was now on her own skin and it made her shiver with delight. 

He helped maneuver her to push up on her legs a little bit and she immediately thanked Nia in her mind for all of the Plié squat repetitions they did every day. 

It was then that she stopped being aware of what he was doing to her, and looked at what she’d done to him.

He was as hard as she’d ever seen before, stretching up and outward towards his stomach. From her upward angle, supported in her half-raised position on her knees, she could see the pearlescent drop that had beaded up at the tip. 

She’d ask about that at another time. If he wanted her to go down on him. He seemed entirely devoted to her pleasure tonight though and she didn’t want to break the spell. 

Slowly reaching forward, she grasped his cock in hand. It was warm to the touch, softer than she was expecting. She heard him let out a strained chuckle and realized her mouth had fallen open in surprise. It wasn’t her fault –– he was much wider than she’d realized just based on sight. 

And then with a slow assurance, she brought herself over it and began to settle down on top of it, sliding him inside of her.

“Oh, Bell,” she let out in a gasp as he first entered. 

Whatever she’d thought it would feel like, it wasn’t this.

“Take your time,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb against her inner thigh. If he thought it would relax her, he was greatly mistaken. Instead it only made her throb more, whimpering as she fought the urge to just drop down when she knew it would feel better if she took her time.

It was torture, lowering herself onto him.

What she’d felt up against her in the studio hadn’t been an exaggeration. She bit at her lip as he slipped further and further into her, burning hot and stretching. It wasn’t painful, all thanks to Bellamy’s earlier work on her. But that didn’t stop all of the discomfort and she was thankful he had the restraint to hold himself back from just ramming up into her. She wasn’t sure all men would.

She clenched when she looked down and saw that she was just halfway down. Almost immediately after, she could hear him grunt to mask a moan of his own at the sensation. 

She made sure to make a mental note of that reaction.

Going slow was a good option until it wasn’t. When all she could see was a couple inches left and she felt so full of him but needed  _ more _ . 

So she dropped the rest of the way, sheathing him entirely in him.

It hadn’t taken much but the sudden movement had them both gasping. Without meaning too, Clarke tipped forward at her shock of the feeling and bracketed herself around Bellamy. He immediately began to murmur encouragement in her ear, kissing her cheeks and lips as he wove his hand into her hair. 

“You’re such a good girl, taking me all of the way,” he whispered into her ear. She clench again at his words and that time she could feel him have to hold himself back from pounding upwards into her.

She almost wanted him to do it.

He pulled her into a long, lazy kiss as she adjusted around him. But it didn’t take long for her to feel settled onto him, the burning stretch melting into just the burning need to move. 

“I think––I think I’m ready,” she said breathlessly as they parted for air. Her lips felt swollen from where he’d nipped at them with his teeth and from where his facial hair had rubbed against her skin. It was deliriously headey; almost as much as the way he was looking up at her with half-closed eyes and a blatant need that matched her own. 

“I’m yours,” he breathed out. 

Her chest ached at his words, feeling more than one implication to it. A swell of pleasure at the idea that he was leaving himself open for her to use as needed for her first sexual experience. A warmth at the idea that there was more to this than just a quick fuck. 

So it was with that encouragement, she began to move.

It took a little bit for her to figure out the movements that went with it. But just as dance came to her naturally, so did having sex with Bellamy. 

Even as she figured out the pace that she needed––sometimes grinding down too quick and hard, other times switching between circling her hips or moving back and forth––it worked. 

None of it was wrong and he matched her for all of it.

Once her small gasps turned out outright moans, her confidence building the longer she took him with each stroke, Bellamy began to join in more as well. Moving with her, his hips moving in the same accord as hers and filling that void with a hard thrust up when she stuttered with how to move. Reminding her that he was there for her.

And not only was he there, but he was  _ everywhere _ .

His hands roamed, pinching at her nipples. Cupping her breasts, his hands large enough to entirely encase them into his palms. Then they’d move down and grip her ass tightly, kneading into as he whispered filthy encouragement to her. How great she looked taking him, how proud he was to be her first. 

There was none of the pain she’d been warned about. The initial discomfort with the hint of a sting as he’d gone in was completely gone.

In its place, a building heat and unending slick from being so aroused. Every time she thought she was as turned on as she could get, she’d shift her hips differently and hit a new spot.

And then, with one particularly deep thrust of his hips as she ground down onto him, she felt him strike a spot so far within her she’d never felt it on her own.

A keening cry spilled out of her, her eyes flying open from being shut. Beneath her, Bellamy’s eyes sparkled with understanding and he suddenly took control from below her. 

His hands moved to hold hers, allowing herself to keep upright as he fucked up into her harder and faster. She did her best to keep up but he’d zeroed in on a new goal and she could feel herself hurtling towards the end as the head of his cock repeatedly struck gold within her, making her see stars. 

At one point, all of her rhythm was lost.

She was nearing that peak, almost to that crest where she’d be able to feel herself tumble over again like before. Anything that could give her that rush and the build up that she needed so badly. She chased after it, grinding down one moment and shifting her hips back and forth another as Bellamy continued onward, his hands dropping to grip her body as her hands desperately clasped at her shoulders. 

Her mind barely registered Bellamy’s equally desperate panting. She’d have a ring of fingerprint marks adorning her hips tomorrow based on how tightly he was holding onto her. The idea of that thrilled her, sending a rush through her at the image. 

His earlier caution had now completely disappeared, fervently thrusting up into her. Even with years of training, her flexibility was tested as he used his hands to keep her wide. Spread out so he could take her deeper. When she finally was able to refocus back on Bellamy’s face, she whimpered in pleasure at the way she watched as he stared hungrily at where they joined together and he disappeared into her. 

Seeing his need for her, not just feeling it in the way that he fucked her but also in his face, was the final piece to what she needed to finish. 

She let out a cry, her body tensing up and then immediately breaking apart as she peaked. The release of the tension was instantaneous: taking her from a taut tightness to every bit of her free and loose in her climax.

Beneath her, Bellamy managed to last a few more aggressive strokes up into her before he let out her name in a deep groan. 

For a brief moment, she wondered what it would have felt like without the condom. 

To feel him release within her.

But that forbidden thought went away as she allowed herself to fall forward onto him, his arms reaching up around her and hugging her tightly against him.

Neither minded the sweat that had collected between them, his curls damp against his forehead. Instead, she nestled in closer to him. He was still inside her and he was clutching her to his chest and somehow it still wasn’t enough.

He did have to briefly separate them to remove the condom, Clarke watching in fascination at her own shining arousal decorating the outside of it, but as soon as he was back he pulled her back to him. Back in his arms, where she didn’t want to leave for the foreseeable future, she traced his cheekbone with soft kisses as she made her way to his lips.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, her voice rough from crying out for so long. She probably hadn’t even realized how continuous her moans were she’d been so out of her mind during it. He seemed to understand what she meant, even without her saying anything else. Not just for the mind-blowing sex, but for taking care of her during it. He whispered some more endearments, her basking in the glow of his pride, as he then pulled his sheet over them. 

As she entangled herself further into his arms, she could feel the exertion giving way to sleepiness. She didn’t mind that they were both naked, sticky from sweat and cum. For now she just wanted to sleep and they could always shower later. Which reminded her that there was certainly  _ more _ they could do in the shower than just wash off.

Clarke fell asleep with Bellamy’s hand lazily carded through her hair, and a deep pulse within her with the promise of what was to come. 

**Author's Note:**

> me: wants to write an explicit fic that features underage consensual sex and a scene where he finger fucks her in a dance studio while they're clothed
> 
> also me: makes a concerted effort to emphasize that they use a condom and that it doesn't have to be unsexy to wait for your sexual partner to use one if needed
> 
> I'm _technically_ on [Tumblr](https://roses-and-riots.tumblr.com/) though that'll just be for sharing posts for these fics.


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